


Ego (It's too much)

by ColinFilth



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: (just a bit of it; it's not the main event), (just a bit of weed), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Sexual Situations, Blow Jobs, Communication, Dirty Talk, Intercrural Sex, Intergluteal Sex, Large Cock, M/M, Masturbation, Penis Size, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Sexual Experimentation, [cracks knuckles]
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:26:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6937789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColinFilth/pseuds/ColinFilth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I am, ah, well-endowed,” Harry says slowly. Eggsy can’t stop the grin from spreading on his lips again. He raises an eyebrow, and Harry shakes his head. “I am afraid you do not understand.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>In which size matters, sometimes a little too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ego (It's too much)

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a number of reasons, namely:  
> \- I am frustrated with the present lack of porn to write for _[The Black Prince](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6637963)_ ,  
> \- Footlong schlongs in fic are getting a bit boring,  
> \- So is the unholy trinity of kisses-blowjob-anal,  
> \- I like penis-based innuendos.
> 
> Title is from _[Ego](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hbnPkK76Ask%0A)_ by Beyoncé, which you should only listen to if you want to have the following stuck in your head ad vitam aeternam: _It's too big / It's too wide / It's too strong / It won't fit / It's too much / It's too tough / He talk like this 'cause he can back it up / He got a big ego / Such a huge ego / I love his big ego / It's too much / He walk like this 'cause he can back it up_.

Eggsy has his legs tight around Harry’s waist, his head thrown back and Harry’s lips burning, burning at the long column of his throat, feeling more than kissing - feeling the pulse beating there, steady but fast, thrumming under his mouth and against his stomach where Eggsy’s cock is pulsing, desperately hard.

He moves, just a fraction of an inch, and Eggsy’s breath hitches and his pulse quickens. Harry’s lips curl, not quite a smile, not nearly a smirk, and he bites down on the pale skin of Eggsy’s neck.

“Again,” Eggsy says.

-

When Harry takes him to his home for The Twenty-Four Hours, caps and all, he obediently toes off his trainers when Harry takes off his oxfords, despite having no swanky slippers to put on instead like Harry does. He has Guest Slippers instead, which is equal parts ridiculous and ridiculously _fancy._

But the point is, Eggsy toes off his trainers and puts them next to Harry’s oxfords and, well.

“You’ve got huge feet,” he blurts out.

Harry is staring at him with a pair of slippers in his hand, and Eggsy numbly accepts them.

“Eleven and a half, I believe,” Harry volunteers, and Eggsy cocks an eyebrow at him.

“You know what they say,” he begins, “big feet…”

Harry’s gaze pins him in place, unreadable.

“Big shoes,” he finishes dumbly.

-

Harry’s mouth tastes like the curry they’d had for supper, hot against Eggsy’s. He hums happily and noses his way down Harry’s neck, into the starch-stiff collar of his shirt. He’s had half a stiffy for the better part of the evening, or if he’s really honest, of the past _year_.

“Fucking finally,” he mumbles into Harry’s skin, reaching under Harry’s suit jacket to palm at his sides, curl his arms around him and feel his back and the tense muscles there.

“Wait,” Harry says in a low voice that Eggsy feels vibrating on its way up and out of Harry’s mouth, and he reaches up to loosen the knot of his necktie. “ _Wait_ , Eggsy. I have something to tell you.”

“Mmh?” He’s not really paying attention. He’s managed the first two buttons of Harry’s shirt, and he smells something brilliant there, heady and wonderful. Eggsy takes a few deliberate whiffs of Harry’s skin, and each breath intake goes straight to his cock like there’s a mainline from his nose, through his lungs and down to his bollocks. “Take me to bed,” he groans against Harry’s collarbone.

It’s a struggle to get up the stairs when Eggsy really doesn’t want to stop touching Harry - and at least in that respect the feeling seems mutual, if the way Eggsy’s jacket gets pushed off his shoulders and discarded over the banister is any indication. He toes off his shoes with minimal fumbling, leaning against Harry as he does, deliberately pressing his erection into Harry’s thigh. Both their ties end up on the steps, and Eggsy starts undoing the buttons of his own shirt with one hand while trying to unbutton Harry’s jacket.

“Slow down,” Harry mumbles against his lips, “I really do have something to tell you.”

“Can it wait?” he says as they cross the threshold to Harry’s bedroom, yanking his shirt off and tugging Harry’s jacket down before resuming on unbuttoning his shirt. “Swear down, this is gonna be over in like, two minutes.”

“No,” is all Harry answers before letting Eggsy fall on the bed.

Instead of joining Eggsy’s happy, horny pile of limbs, though, he takes a few steps back and stands in front of him. He looks _glorious_ like this, all rumpled with his hair falling into his eyes and his shirt open and an obvious tent in his trousers. Eggsy grins and arches his back, unzipping his trousers and kicking them off. Harry’s eyes rove over his body, the arousal evident on his face unwavering even when Eggsy gracelessly toes his socks off; his eyes briefly closing when Eggsy smirks and hooks both thumbs in his pants and starts to lower them, flashing a fair bit of hair and the root of his cock.

“Eggsy”, Harry groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Would you just listen for a bit, please.”

Eggsy sighs and raises his hands in surrender. When Harry’s face grows somber, he frowns and swings into a sitting position.

“I am, ah, _well-endowed_ ,” Harry says slowly. Eggsy can’t stop the grin from spreading on his lips again. He raises an eyebrow, and Harry shakes his head. “I am afraid you do not understand.”

“Show us then,” Eggsy answers, leaning in a bit. Swear down, someone somehow got their hands on the blueprints for Eggsy Unwin’s Perfect Lover and made Harry Hart.

“It has been a problem in the past,” Harry says, but he starts undoing his trousers. Eggsy’s mouth hangs open. “Eggsy, you have to realise. It is quite big.”

This is getting ridiculous. Eggsy arches his eyebrow again, more insistently. He gives Harry his best smile and a wave of the hand, as if to say _Go on_. Harry gives a big, heaving sigh, as though Eggsy had done something much more terrible than ask his boyfriend to finally show him his prick, and finally, finally drops trou.

Eggsy stares, and stares, and stares. His thighs clamp together of their own volition.

“Yeah,” he says. “ _Nope_.”

-

“Keep kissing me, yeah?” Eggsy breathes, winding his arms around Harry’s neck and burying his fingers in Harry’s hair, pulling his head up and towards his, gasping when the sudden distraction makes Harry shift inside him.

Harry’s body is a warm, heavy weight against his, his arm a tense line against Eggsy’s body but his shoulders relaxed and his face open with something not unlike awe. His kisses are long, reverent things that make Eggsy melt into Harry’s embrace. His whole spine feels like molten heat, his body straining for more.

All the need and want gathering in his brainand some hidden place in his chest has given way to pleasure, burning up from his arse and bollocks until he feels almost delirious with it.

-

Eggsy is standing in Harry’s kitchen, leaning against one of the cabinets. He’s watching Harry make breakfast. Everything is silent save for the sound of the water slowly rising to a boil in the pot. The beans make an unhappy little noise on the burner next to it, and Harry lowers the heat. Thick slices of bacon are sitting on the counter on greaseproof paper. They are starting to sweat, and Eggsy finally goes to wrap them back up and stuff the packet back in the fridge. It looks like it came from a proper butcher, which is, _of course_ , not like Harry would buy his meat from the Everyday Value range at Tesco.

“M’sorry,” Eggsy says. “I should’ve told you I don’t eat meat.”

“Nonsense,” Harry replies mildly, rifling through a drawer for a spoon, “I should not have assumed. I should have asked if you had any dietary restrictions. To be honest, Eggsy, I had not pegged you as a vegetarian.”

“Coulda shoulda woulda,” Eggsy shrugs, and he leans back against the countertop.

He stays quiet and watches Harry select an egg from the carton next to him and break it into a small bowl one-handed, all proper chef-style. The water is properly simmering now, and Harry gives it a good whirl with his spoon, bringing the bowl above the water with his left hand.

“For what it’s worth,” Eggsy says, “I do enjoy a big saucy banger as much as the next bloke.”

The spoon clatters against the pot, and when Eggsy leans in, there is a big gooey mess in the simmering water.

“No offence, Harry, but if that’s how you poach an egg, I’ll just have the beans, ta.”

Harry just glares at him.

-

He has to tell someone, so he tells Roxy.

“Harry’s got a huge cock,” Eggsy blurts out one morning while they’re running side by side on the estate grounds. 

Roxy gives him an incredulous glance and speeds up, her poodle dutifully following. JB wheezes pathetically next to Eggsy when he groans and catches up.

“Eggsy, I _really_ don’t want to hear about it,” she pleads.

“Rox, I’m serious,” he tells her. “It’s ruining my fucking life.”

She slows down a little, mercifully.

“Isn’t that supposed to be a good thing for you?”

“You-me, or you-the-giant-homo-coalition?” Eggsy asks. “‘Cause either way, Rox, it ain’t a good thing for anyone.” She huffs out a laugh. “I’m serious. He could add a drink and charge five quid for it.”

This time she flat-out laughs, stopping short and bending over in hysterics. JB flops down on the grass next to her and drools. Eggsy lowers himself and scratches the spot behind his ears before looking up at Roxy warily. She’s calmed down, but she’s rubbing her fingers under her eyes.

“ _Jesus_ ,” she says. “Eggsy, I’m still not sure I see the problem.”

“The problem,” he enunciates, “is that it could barely fit in my hand, let alone…” he falters and raises his eyebrows at Roxy. When she gives him a quizzical look, he raises his middle finger and thrusts it upwards.

“Oh my _God_ , Eggsy!” she covers her face with her hands and looks up in silent prayer. For a second Eggsy thinks he’s scandalised her, then she turns her gaze back on him. “Had it perhaps occurred to you that intercourse is not all there is to sex?” When he doesn’t answer, she frowns. “It _didn’t?!”_

Roxy sits down on the grass in front of him, looking very, very concerned. And a little mocking.

“Eggsy,” she says slowly, like she’s explaining something to a very small child, “please don’t tell me that whenever you had sex with people before, you just pushed your prick inside them and went in and out until you came.”

“No!” Eggsy says vehemently. “We did oral and stuff before, y’know, foreplay.” He might not be a proper gentleman and all, but he’s not an _animal_ , come on.

Roxy looks at him like he’s a big smear of shit in the middle of the kerb.

“That’s not foreplay, Eggsy,” she says in the same slow, patronising tone. She gives him a little pat on the knee. “That’s _sex_.”

-

Every time Harry shifts inside him it feels like he’s pushing precome out of Eggsy’s cock, his length coated in it down to his bollocks. Harry’s forearm brushes against his cockhead and Eggsy sucks in a deep breath, his hips twitching. He swallows down a sob.

“You can come whenever,” Harry murmurs. “Eggsy, my dear boy, come whenever you want, don’t hold yourself back.”

“S’not enough,” Eggsy croaks out, his tongue feeling leaden in his mouth. There’s spit on his cheek where he’s been drooling, but Harry still looks at him like he’s something precious and amazing.

Harry nods and shifts to allow Eggsy to snake his hand down to his prick. His fist closes around it and it’s _too much_ , suddenly, and he snatches his hand away like he’s burnt himself. Slowly, nosing his way into Harry’s neck to bury his face there, he cups his glans with the sweaty inside of his palm and schools the jerk of his hips into his own touch.

-

“You’se sort of vain, Harry, anyone ever tell you that?”

Eggsy is watching him comb his hair back neatly. Scratch that - comb his hair back and forth neatly, doing his part and then again when it apparently it two millimetres too far to the right or to the left. His face is shiny with moisturiser and aftershave, his dressing gown sitting perfectly on his body with the tight knot precisely made.

“Merlin, constantly,” Harry says conversationally, running a finger along his eyebrow to smooth down the hairs. Eggsy rolls his eyes.

He’s supposed to take Harry home today, after months in the Kingsman medical bay, and he has been watching Harry get ready for the past half hour. He won’t have to pick clothes, at least, because Merlin brought in only one outfit - on purpose, probably. Definitely.

“Seriously, we not going to see the Queen, a’ight? Down the hall, out, cab, then the Mews.”

Harry finally sets his comb down and disappears behind a partition after giving him a Look, neatly folded pile of clothes under his left arm and his umbrella in his right hand. Too stubborn to use the medical cane currently sitting next to his bed, Eggsy knows.

“A gentleman always presents themselfat their best,” Harry recites, and Eggsy rolls his eyes. The red dressing gown is draped over the top of the partition, then his shirt and trousers. Eggsy perks up a little, even though he can’t see anything through the partition, not even the hint of a silhouette. “For the benefit of company, but also their own.” He emerges from behind the partition fully dressed, cashmere jumper and corduroy slacks in warm tones that make his skin not look so pale. If he leans on his umbrella a fraction more heavily than usual, Eggsy will ignore that. “However they feel most comfortable.”

“Oh my _God_ , you are so vain,” Eggsy says, picking up Harry’s bag for him and looping an arm around his own. “Why anyone lets you get away with it I’ll never know.” He takes a few steps and ignores the heat of Harry’s skin through his jumper and Eggsy’s own jacket. “You’se got the biggest ego I’ve ever seen.”

“Don’t say this like it’s a bad thing,” Harry tells him lightly, almost chiding, and Eggsy groans.

-

Eggsy is lying boneless on the bed after a truly fantastic blowjob, Harry pressing soft kisses on the insides of his thighs. He reaches down to absently pet Harry’s head, takes a few deep breath, and sits up.

“A’ight,” he says. “Trousers off, Harry.”

Harry stills between his legs, his mouth in the middle of doing something ridiculously tender to a mole about ten centimetres away from Eggsy’s bollocks, and Eggsy bends down to take Harry’s face between his hands and pull him closer, pressing two, three kisses to his lips. He can taste spunk when he lingers on the third kiss, and he thoughtfully sucks on Harry’s lower lip for a bit.

“I can do this,” Eggsy insists.

“Eggsy,” Harry tells him. “This is not a challenge.”

“Sure,” he answers.

It absolutely is.

Because Eggsy ain’t afraid of no cock, alright? He faced down Valentine and Gazelle and their little army and a good handful of other mad villains since. He’s also wanted Harry for the better part of a year, through comas and fights and the non-end of the world and bed rests. So he tugs down Harry’s trousers and pants and gives his boyfriend’s stiffy a long, hard look to let it know who’s the governour around here.

It seems even bigger than it had last week, if that’s possible, and when Eggsy closes his hand around it he suppresses the brief surge of panic that rises up when he can’t touch the tip of his fingers. He figures it’s just like going for a swim in the Channel: you just need to jump in and not tiptoe on the shore for ten minutes. He leans in and gives the head an experimental lick before closing his lips around the tip, toying at the foreskin with his tongue. Above him Harry breathes a little more heavily, and Eggsy moans happily around his cock.

The victory is short-lived, because after about twelve seconds Eggsy’s jaw starts to ache. He pulls back and moves it around before going back in. Quickly, he realises that he won’t be able to fit much more than the head in his mouth, and he raises his other hand to join the first, curling one first near the base and the other right under his mouth. They don’t touch. This is ridiculous. Eggsy opens his eyes when Harry’s hand touches the top of his head, fingers threading through his hair, and looks up at him warily, pulling off his cock with a pop.

“You don’t have to,” Harry tells him, gentle and patient.

And this, this won’t do - he doesn’t want Harry gentle and patient, he wants him gripping Eggsy’s hair in ecstasy with his hips jerking up because he just _can’t_ help it. So Eggsy changes his angle and lets Harry’s cock fall on his belly. It points helpfully to his bellybutton, so Eggsy crawls up a bit and kisses it. When he noses it, just to feel Harry’s belly quiver, his lips are smack on Harry’s glans, so he kisses it, too, before cupping it in his fist and trailing his lips down Harry’s length.

He gets it good and wet with his mouth and his tongue, slick enough that his fist can curl around it and slide up and down easily, and focuses his attention on Harry’s bollocks for a bit. He can fit one in his mouth and suck, which is sort of a victory in itself, along with the way it makes Harry’s breath hitch and his hips tremble under Eggsy.

“This good then?” he asks, coming back up to mouth at the cockhead, speeding up the motion of his fist and making it tighter still before adding his second, jacking Harry fast and nice. Harry nods wordlessly. He tongues at the slit for a bit, chasing the taste of precome and looking up at Harry. “You gonna come for me?”

Harry does when Eggsy stuffs his cockhead in his mouth, filling it with a load of bitter-tasting spunk that Eggsy swallows and keeps milking from him even as his jaw aches and cramps.

“ _Yes_ , Harry, I did it, fucking _ace_ ,” he crows afterwards, fitting himself inside Harry’s lazy, come-dumb embrace, and he laughs and rubs his stiff cock against Harry’s thigh when he smacks his arse.

-

He comes helplessly a few seconds later, spilling over his own fingers and bucking his hips into Harry’s touch, gasping against Harry’s lips where he craned his neck back, smelling nothing but Harry’s cologne and his sweat, with his pulse thudding heavily in his chest and his cock.

Harry withdraws his fingers and Eggsy feels empty. He brings his legs up around Harry’s waist again and lets him settle between them, burrowing inside Harry’s neck again to suck a kiss at his collarbone, delighted by the way Harry hums happily in his ear. Eggsy’s limbs feel like they have no strength left in them, and he pushes Harry away long enough to turn around and stretch out lazily on his belly. Harry is quick to drape himself over his back, though, brushing his nose into Eggsy’s hair and down the nape of his neck and making his way down his spine.

When Eggsy is still oversensitive from his orgasm, the tender little tickle is more of a gigantic assault, every scrape of teeth on his skin and every brush of Harry’s late-day stubble a flame licking at him and leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

-

When Eggsy’s account starts filling up and his bank statements are beginning to get well in the quadruple digits, the first thing he does for himself is to track down the constantly bleary-eyed bloke who works in the hangar and ask him where he gets his grass. The lad defends himself at first, but soon enough Eggsy has a bulging FoodSaver bag full of the stickiest, stinkiest skunk money can buy.

He sets down a few ground rules with himself while he rolls a tight little roach from someone’s business card - no smoking at home where his mum or the baby can see or smell, no smoking before missions, no smoking before anything work-related, period. No smoking in front of Harry, probably.

Everything flies into the wind after he finds himself a quiet smoke spot on the manor’s grounds near the deserted, empty stables no one ever goes to, sinks into the grass and lights up. Eggsy hasn’t smoked in a while, and nothing near this quality, and within minutes he’s sprawled boneless on the grass. He takes off his shoes and socks because feeling the soft grass under his feet seems like the _best_ idea, and it absolutely _is_.

This is his defense as to why he doesn’t hear Harry approach, and why he doesn’t try to hide the spliff. Instead, he makes a weak little salute with his joint between index and middle finger, and takes a long drag.

“There’s a camera in that tree,” Harry says, and with the tip of his umbrella he points at a nondescript spot that Eggsy stupidly squints at. Harry sits down next to him, and it is simple muscle memory that makes Eggsy take another drag and pass the joint.

Harry takes it between thumb and middle finger, pinky raised. It’s the most hilarious-est thing Eggsy’s ever seen. He keeps laughing all through Harry taking a drag, sucking down the smoke and elegantly blowing it out, and calms himself down just in time to accept his spliff back and pull on it. Harry sets a hand down on his thigh, his palm impossibly hot through Eggsy’s slacks. Eggsy lays his hand next to Harry’s, their knuckles touching.

“Your hands are huge,” Eggsy mumbles around a lungful of smoke. “Why’s everything huge about you?”

Harry laughs and wriggles his fingers demandingly for the joint.

-

Eggsy takes one long, last parting drag from the joint before leaving it smouldering in the ashtray on the bedside table, smoked down to the roach. He keeps the smoke in his lungs for a long while, long enough he can barely see a sliver of silver when he breathes out. He blinks owlishly at Harry, spreading his legs invitingly and reaching down to tugslowly at his half-hard cock.

“ _Alright_ ,” he says. “Let’s do this.”

Harry shakes his head, but his hard-on is bulging under his pants, a ridiculously large tent big enough that Eggsy guesses he could sleep under it.

Or maybe the weed is guessing that. Whatever.

The point is: Eggsy has a nice thing going on with his cock, he has spent three hours training with Bors-actually-Armistead-but-there-is-no-way-Eggsy-can-call-him-that today and was left loose-limbed and sweaty, and he had followed up with a nice little wank first under the shower and then on Harry’s bed, with his head mashed into Harry’s pillow and two-three-four fingers inside himself. His arse feels loose and wet with the pint of lube he’d used, he’s come once already, and smoked a lovely cheese nug. He’s bloody prepared. He’s the definition of prepared. If you looked up “prepared” in the dictionary, there would be a picture of Eggsy supine on Harry’s bed.

“Eggsy,” Harry begins with a soft, tender kiss on the inside of his knee, “you know this is wholly unnecessary. I am perfectly happy with things as they are. Don’t think we _have_ to do this.”

“But I _want_ to,” Eggsy says, aiming for needy and seductive but mostly ending up sounding needy and whiny. He takes his hand off his cock and trails two fingers down to his arse to push them inside himself, closing his eyes half for show and half because his eyelids are really heavy right now and half because it feels really fucking lovely. Is that three halves? Whatever.

It works, apparently, because Harry takes his pants off. Eggsy’s stiffy softens a wee bit in fear when Harry starts stroking himself, pulling his foreskin down and letting the fat red glans pop up, looking big and intimidating. This isn’t the first time they have a bit of a snog with Eggsy _under the influence_ , as Harry puts it, as if he did not partake in _the influence_ occasionally, as if he did not critique Eggsy’s rolling technique with references to his and Merlin’s apparently wild youth in the late seventies; but this time more than usual every touch feels stronger, the way Harry curls a hand around his wrist to pull his fingers out and replace them with one of his own sending a shockwave up Eggsy’s body that fizzles in his brain before rushing down his throat to his bollocks.

“Yeah, like that,” he mumbles, spreading his thighs impossibly wider and tilting his arse up into Harry’s touch. He hears the click of the bottle of lube and then Harry’s hand disappears for a second, two fingers returning slick and cool to bury themselves in his arse and fuck him good and slow. He’s open already, but Harry’s touch is different, his fingers bigger and longer than his own, quick and skilled, spreading him open until he can take four again, sliding in and out of him where Harry’s been stopping an insufferable number of times to add more lube, press a kiss to Eggsy’s lips, or just tell him how wonderful he looks like this.

It’s all a bit much to take.

When Harry withdraws his fingers Eggsy is quick to replace them with his own, his other hand soothingly petting his cock, now rock-hard and leaking. He hears some rummaging, then Harry’s face is back in his field of vision.

“Are you sure?” he whispers. “Eggsy, dear, tell me.”

“Push your cock in my arse and fuck me, Harry Hart,” he says, and Harry gives him a judgemental little look before kissing him briefly and pulling away again. He’s got a johnny in his hand and soon enough he’s rolling it down the length of his cock before slicking himself up with what seems like an excessive amount of lube. Harry’s hands are sticky when he sets them on Eggsy’s hips, and Eggsy’s arms curl around his back of their own accord. Harry’s eyes won’t leave his.

Before long the head of Harry’s cock is nudging against his hole and Eggsy doesn’t clench down like his body is urging him to. He makes himself relax, pushes back against Harry and lets his mouth fall wide open when Harry finally pushes inside.

“Does it hurt?” Harry asks, pressing his nose against Eggsy’s in a demonstration of the world’s less innocent eskimo kiss.

“S’fine,” Eggsy answers tightly, full to bursting. Harry kisses him proper.

“Alright,” he says. “In we go, then.”

Eggsy looks up at him wildly.

“You’se not _all_ _in_ yet?” Harry shakes his head minutely. “Okay, no, _no_ , I’m sorry, fuck, _no_.”

_This is a proper disaster_ , he thinks as Harry withdraws and gets up to dispose of the useless, unused condom. Eggsy’s cock has softened, a bit sadly stiff now, and Eggsy groans and turns over to bury his face in the pillows and yell into them just a little bit.

“Did I hurt you?” Harry asks gently when he comes back. Eggsy feels the bed dip when Harry sits down next to him, and he shakes his head without lifting it. “Are you sure?” Eggsy nods. When Harry adds in a seemingly nonchalant voice, “no need to kiss it better, then.” Eggsy perks up.

His cock too.

-

Harry’s hands feel impossibly big on his arse when they spread him open, and Eggsy feels his breath over his hole for a scant few seconds before Harry dives in tongue first, licking broadly over his loose hole before sucking an embarrassingly loud kiss that makes Eggsy buck his hips and laugh at the same time.

“ _God_ , I love your arse,” Harry says, voice low and horny, and this time Eggsy _wants_ to laugh but can only whimper pathetically, rising up on his knees and arching his back into it. “I think of it when I see you all suited and booted up, as you say, I think of you just like this, love, of your body begging for what few things your mouth will not say.”

_Fucking hell_ , Eggsy mouths, because he _can’t_ speak. He’s well on his way to being hard again, his prick fattening demandingly between his legs. Harry keeps licking at him, his tongue clever in every way, one of his hands keeping a firm grip on Eggsy’s arse and the other trailing down to his calf to keep him from moving too much.

-

The first time they kiss is sweet and gentle. One second Eggsy is laughing at something or another; the next Harry is leaning in and pressing their lips together with one hand cupping Eggsy’s jaw and the other on his knee.

The second time is similar.

The third time, though - the third time is after a frankly excessive amount of talking and reassuring Harry that Eggsy won’t let himself get saddled with an old man because Harry is a professional spy who has been drinking about one pint of scotch daily for the past thirty-five years and will probably die of cirrhosis in the next five ones. It seems to make Harry feel better, or at least happy enough to take Eggsy home and snog him senseless in the foyer, there under two hundred and thirteen dead bugs’ eyes.

The fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eleventieth kiss all blur into each other on Harry’s sofa, where despite the comfortable expanse of it Eggsy ends up straddling him and rocking minutely into his lap, his cock an embarrassing stiff weight against Harry’s taut belly.

“Aw, shite, I’m sorry,” Eggsy mumbles against Harry’s lips, pulling back a little and moaning when he can’t because Harry splays a hand at the small of his back, scant centimetres above the swell of his arse. “That’s not helpful, Harry,” he says with a crooked smile, and leans down for kiss number twenty-something. Hesitantly, he moves back down to rub himself with more purpose against Harry, shifting and smiling wickedly when he feels something hard against his arse. “Is that a gun or are you happy to see me?” he murmurs.

Harry laughs so hard that Eggsy has to climb down from his lap.

“Oh, pet,” Harry says, leaning in for what is probably number twenty-eight, “there’s a whole arsenal.”

-

Eggsy wakes sometime in the afternoon to the door slamming downstairs, and Harry little mumble of _Ah, shit_. He cackles happily and rolls over in bed, yawning and stretching before burrowing into the blankets again. From the low, blueish light in the room, it’s somewhere around six in the evening. He’d arrived this morning from Chicago after an all-nighter with his body insisting it was four in the mo’ even as Merlin insisted it was ten, debriefed semi-coherently, and gone home to promptly faceplant on Harry’s bed. He’d only woken up around two to piss, undress, drink an entire bottle of water, and eat half an apple he’d then abandoned on Harry’s countertop when even chewing proved to be too exhausting.

“Hello, darling,” Harry says from the open bedroom door, looking at him for a few seconds before coming in. “Did I wake you up?”

“Maybe,” Eggsy yawns. He turns on his side to watch Harry shed his jacket and shoulder holster before sitting next to him, raising a hand to brush the soft, short hair behind Eggsy’s ear. He closes his eyes, his cock stiffening interestedly against his thigh. It’s been two weeks since he last saw Harry, and he tilts his head up for a kiss.

“Merlin told me you came back all in one piece, if a bit jetlagged,” Harry says after kissing him obediently.

“I walked into a door on me way to the tube,” Eggsy says, rolling over on his back, “but yes, just a bit.” Harry smiles at him indulgently, and Eggsy yawns again. “Come to bed?”

“It is not even seven yet,” Harry chides, but he takes off his shirt and trousers and climbs in away, pulling Eggsy on his side again and folding his arms over his torso, tangling their legs together and shifting until they’re back-to-front, then setting his lips against Eggsy’s shoulders. “I missed you terribly,” he confesses, and Eggsy replies with a content sort of hum before pushing his arse against Harry’s crotch.

Harry laughs warmly in his ear, the sound sending a frisson trickle down Eggsy’s spine. His hand curiously cups Eggsy’s cock, finding it half-hard in his shorts. Eggsy wriggles a little against him, at first to get comfortable and then to pull his pants down, kicking them off and plastering himself against Harry again, sighing happily when Harry’s hand finds his prick again and gives it a polite little tug, his lips doing something obscene to Eggsy’s earlobe. With his arse snug against Harry like this he can feel the shape of his cock through his pants, intimidating even soft, and he pushes back against it teasingly. Harry groans.

It fattens little by little, with every pull of Harry’s hand around his cock, ever kiss he brushes to the shell of his ear or sucks on his shoulder, every time Eggsy rubs his arse against it, arches his back, moans and whines. He gives a quiet little gasp when Harry’s other hand splays over his torso, fingers teasing one of his nipples, and he turns his head just enough to let his lips beg for a kiss.

“Take off your shorts, yeah?” he murmurs against Harry’s lips, reaching back to tug them down. There are a fussy few seconds until Harry is back against him, his hand around Eggsy’s cock again and his own prick slotted between the cheeks of Eggsy’s arse. He whines when Harry’s hand leaves his erection for a second, only to guide his own cock between Eggsy’s thighs and thurst, slowly, almost gently. “ _Yes_ , Harry,” he says. “You’re a fucking genius.”

The slide of Harry’s prick between his thighs feels electric, each pass under his bollocks and each tug of Harry’s hand on his cock drawing a moan from his throat. It’s all a bit too dry, so Eggsy reaches blindly for the nightstand drawer and the lube before all but throwing it in Harry’s capable hands. Then it’s a bit too cold, but soon enough it’s just _perfect_ , all things easily sliding together.

“The fuck does it feel so good,” he asks, turning his head again to kiss Harry. It’s more of a brush of lips, really, because of the angle and mostly because he can’t stop gasping, but it drives a sharp zing of pleasure down to his bollocks. Harry’s thrusting turns into grinding and his kisses into light little bites on Eggsy’s shoulders and the side of his neck. “You feel so good, Harry.”

Eggsy reaches down, and sure enough, he can feel the wet nudge of Harry’s glans if he puts his hand just so, and in seconds the palm of his hand is slick with precome and Harry’s heavy breathing is punctuated with undignified little grunts.

“M’gonna come soon,” he warns. “Come with me, yeah? You can come like this, come on me.”

It takes a few more thrusts and a tentative grab at Harry’s glans but he does, all over Eggsy’s bollocks and the inside of his thighs, the release making his grip just a bit tighter around Eggsy’s cock, just enough for Eggsy to jerk into it and come, too, wet and sweaty and breathless and deliriously happy.

-

“Stop, Harry, stop, yeah?” he begs, and Harry pulls back immediately, bless him. Eggsy reaches back to pet his head haphazardly, landing mostly on his eyebrow but doing it anyway. “I’m pretty sure I’m gonna come again if you don’t.”

“Oh,” Harry says, cool as they please, “well, if that’s all.”

And he goes back in and Eggsy _screams_ , a garbled mess of a thing, scrambling until he can get a good grip on the longer strands of Harry’s hair and pull - away or closer, he doesn’t know. He gives up, gives in and rubs himself off against the mattress, sobbing when Harry slides a finger inside him, just one clever finger rubbing at his prostate and Eggsy comes, shaking and out of breath. Harry keeps licking at him, still - Eggsy’s starting to believe this is as much for his benefit as it is for Eggsy’s, and he gets his answer when he turns over and Harry crawls over him with his cock hard and red and leaking.

“Lube,” he says between kisses, “condom. Quick, Harry.”

-

“Make way for the three-legged man,” Merlin says distractedly when Harry comes in, and Eggsy swivels on his chair to give him what is surely a disgustingly soppy smile. Merlin’s arm shoots out and grabs the chair, swivelling it back towards the screens. “Eyes up here, Galahad,” he warns.

Eggsy turns like, ninety percent of his attention back to the screen where Merlin is currently showing him the visual logs from Percival’s recon mission in preparation for Eggsy’s own run next week, but keeps the very corner of his eye on Harry’s slow approach. He doesn’t say anything, just stands behind them leaning on his ever-present umbrella. Merlin reaches on his desk for a file and hands it to him without even stopping his explanations, just sneaking in a proper _There you go, Arthur, sir_ before going right back to hallways and cameras and blind spots for Eggsy.

Once Harry has left the room and the click-clack of the umbrella’s tip on the tiled floors can’t be heard anymore, Eggsy swivels and drives his elbow into Merlin’s ribs. He doesn’t even flinch. This is almost disappointing.

“The _three-legged man_ , Merlin, really?” he hisses. Merlin gives him a pointed stare before turning back to his screens. “You know he won’t even use that bloody cane, did you really have to go and say that?”

“Harry’s a big lad, Eggsy,” Merlin tells him, clicking through folders and miniatures before pulling up a set of blueprints. 

Eggsy sits back and lets Merlin get back into it with a frown. He listens attentively, because little a, he actually wants to do his job properly, and little b, Harry and Merlin have known each other since before he was even born. Merlin probably knows the difference between banter and jabbing his finger into Harry’s insecurities like a child poking a wounded animal. Little by little he relaxes, and when Merlin finishes his brief he’s confident both in his ability to complete the mission successfully and the fact that Harry’s not currently curled up on the floor with a bottle of gin.

When he goes to leave the room he gives Merlin a wry little smile and a nod.

“Thank you, Galahad,” Merlin says, pulling up something new already. “And for the record, Eggsy, I wasn't talking about the ruddy cane.”

Eggsy makes it to the end of the hallway before he gets it.

-

There’s dried-up jizz on Eggsy’s cheek. He rubs at it ineffectively, spitting on his fingers before he has another go. Harry chuckles quietly next to him, laying boneless on his belly, apparently undisturbed by the fact that Eggsy’s load is currently drying tacky over the swell of his arse, where he’d rubbed himself off until he came about five minutes ago. Eggsy gives up and trudges to the bathroom, splashing water over his face and drinking a few good mouthfuls of it. When he comes back, Harry still hasn’t moved.

“You don’t mind,” he asks him somewhat hesitantly, climbing back up on the bed, “that we don’t shag properly?”

Harry lifts his head and frowns at him.

“I’m sorry,” he says slowly. “Your saliva and semen are all over my arse. What do you think we have been doing, exactly?”

“You know what I mean,” Eggsy insists, “cock in arse. Proper fuck.”

As soon as he’s said it he feels stupid, and the way Harry is looking at him is not helping. He’s staring like Eggsy just said something really fucking daft, like he’s not even fully understanding what he just said because of how idiotic it is.

Eggsy turns his head, and Harry’s hand grabs the nearest part of him he can reach. It’s his ankle. Eggsy’s toes curl of their own accord.

“Eggsy,” Harry says, incredibly earnest. “I assure you, you fuck me very, very properly.”

-

He’s not a hundred percent sure if he’s still stiff from his previous orgasm or if he’s gotten hard again.

He doesn’t care to know, not really, not when he’s sitting between Harry’s legs with two well-lubed fingers rubbing at his hole and his wet hand on Harry’s cock, stroking him nice and slow. Not when Harry’s looking at him like this, his skin red down to his navel, his eyes dark and half-lidded, his lips parted; when his dick seems to harden every time Eggsy rubs over his prostate. He doesn’t actually know where to look, exactly, Harry’s face or his cock or his arse, opening up for Eggsy. He leans down and sucks a kiss to Harry’s glans, licking insistently at the slit while adding a third finger.

“Oh, dear,” Harry breathes, and Eggsy’s not too sure if that’s for him or for the way he’s pushing Harry’s foreskin down and licking around his cockhead. “That’s lovely, Eggsy, darling.”

_That’s_ for him - all of it is for him, really, all of Harry’s moans and hitched little breaths and ungentlemanly grunts, the hardness of his cock and the tightness of his arse, all of Harry’s kisses and then some.

Eggsy takes his hands away, rolls the condom on, and lines himself up.

They melt against each other, just for a second, and then Eggsy thrusts, once, twice. His thighs are shaking. He leans down and kisses Harry messily. One of Harry’s hands snakes up to his hair, the other down to his cock. Eggsy can feel the slow motion of it between their bellies.

“Good?” he asks. Harry nods and kisses him again. “Good.”

Eggsy buries his face in Harry’s neck again, because it really is one of his favourite spots - all he can smell there are the complementary tones of Harry’s cologne and aftershave, and in times like this the tang of his sweat. There’s also the way it automatically makes Harry’s arm go tight around his neck, pulling him close and safe. It makes it a little bit harder to really thrust, so he mostly just grinds into Harry’s arse.

“I think I’m going to come soon,” Harry tells him, always polite and eloquent even in times like these. Eggsy nods into his neck, angling his hips and pressing a kiss to Harry’s skin.

One of his legs wraps itself around Eggsy’s, a warning not to move, something he’s seen Harry do both in bed and in combat. It makes something a little mad twist in his belly, and he worries the skin of Harry’s neck between his teeth. In the little groove built by Harry’s limbs everything seems very loud, Harry’s rapid breathing and the thudding of his heart. It feels too hot, too tight, and Eggsy groans and rises his head to mash their mouths together in some sad pantomime of a kiss, swallowing Harry’s deep moans.

He feels it first when Harry starts to come, tightening around his cock, his fist jerking faster over his cock, and Eggsy leans back to fuck him through it, hard and fast, to watch his face and his prick and the way Eggsy’s is driving in and out of his arse.

That’s what does him in, ultimately. He’s not sure how much actually comes out of his cock, but it leaves him tingling all over and bone-deep exhausted, with barely enough strength to pull out and roll over. His poor overworked dick aches a little. Still-

“How’s that for a proper shag?” he asks Harry, chest heaving, smug smile stretching over his lips, and Harry just looks at him and takes his hand to set his lips against Eggsy’s wrist, over his pulse.

“My dear, darling boy,” Harry tells him, exasperated and fond, “you have no idea.”

Eggsy’s pretty sure he really, really does.


End file.
